Careless air

I close my eyes. Picture it. I am floating on water. Dead sea water, no effort. I can float with a book if I want to and rest for hours. Yes. Easy. Languid. Peace. A solid body immersed in a liquid. There’s a law. Who? Archimedes maybe. Archimedes floating in a bath tub. Oh buoy, he said, and ran home naked to write it down. Remember half listening to Vance in high school. Science class late in the day, drowsy. 32 feet per second per second, falling bodies. Just dropping in. Accelerating per seconds through space. Spacetime, a curved thing with geographical features. Bumps, hollows, canyons, mountains. Shaped by things in the way, some of them falling per second per second. Energy too, shaping spacetime. Not falling per second per second. Gravity giving us that heavy feeling. The Earth drags spacetime behind it and around. Like the wake of a boat, losing satelites in the ripples. Seattlites too. Where are they? More like when are they. Earth’s wake moving slowly, languidly through the dead sea. Ripples under my floating per second per second. Floating.

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About Nowthenowhen

I am now and not then. Nothen. Death stilled them and me with them. Yet my now moves away away. From that time I make my sense of time. The stilled moment of death. Stop the moving now. Separate it from this moving now, this one here, you are looking at it, this now, not that now, this now. Did you see it? What you saw is gone. What is your now? In this now I cannot resurrect them. In a walled now (in finite now) no escape to them. Where is my shaded sundial? Tomorrow is a new day will be.